Welcome To The Garreg Mach Driving School
by C.A.M.E.O.1 and Only
Summary: Jeralt Eisner, a retired racer, takes up a job as a driving instructor on the Garreg Mach campus to get his kids a free ride to college. How bad could this go?
1. The Brake-Breaker's Driving School

**The Brake-Breaker's Driving School**

"Hello there, my name is Jeralt Reus Eisner, and I'll be your driving instructor for today."

And that was when everyone screamed. In horror.

Jeralt Reus Eisner was once known as the Brake-Breaker on the Garreg Mach racing circuit. He'd go through a new set every week, each worth more than a room of first place trophies. But his racing life ended when he met the love of his life, settled down, and started a family. They had two beautiful children, and when they started elementary school, things sped downhill fast. His wife was lost to cancer, and his auto shop caught fire not long after. His kids were brilliant, but scholarships alone wouldn't pay for all their schooling no matter what school they chose. Until the Goddess gave him one small break...

"...A driving instructor. Rhea, I'm a retired RACER, not exactly someone rich-bitch trust fund parents would trust their hormonal brats to," he grumbled into his phone. The beer he brought outside had gone warm, and he totally blamed his sister-in-law.

"Jeralt, dear, Byleth and Berith need you if they want to have a professional future. These parents are willing to pay more than $250 an hour for a famous driver to teach their children. I already have more than 10 students lined up for you!" she rebutted, her sugary sweet (fake) voice making the driver in question shudder.

"I get that, but you know how I am with the rich and famous. They'd probably get so offended by my ol' sedan, they'd call the cops," he responded. A silence followed. A long silence. Something went click on the other line. Some background muttering. And a loud bang.

"Jeralt, I will personally fund Byleth and Berith's education at the Garreg Mach University if you take these spoiled, deranged, sheltered IDIOTS out of my and Cichol's hair and TEACH THEM SOME GODDESS FORSAKEN COMMON DECENCY," Rhea...No, Seiros, hissed back, her staff probably having finally left the room. Her rage did little to ease Jeralt into the position, but a free ride for his kids was hard to say no to...

"And if these little shits wreck my car?"

"They're bringing their own. Or mom and dad's, specifically. Glad to have you on board!"


	2. Only The Richest Bitches

**Only The Richest Bitches**

The drive from Remire to Garreg Mach wasn't too long in and of itself. The problem was, to no one's surprise, the traffic. Jeralt's old sedan was already shaking with every abrupt stop, and his good'ol trailer behind them was just as rickety. The hundreds of vehicles (some he swore to his wife's entire family's issues weren't street legal) did nothing to cool the building road rage in him.

"Dad, can you turn up the AC? It's really hot back here," Byleth whined, fanning himself under his collar for exaggeration.

"You're the dumbass who chose to wear a full dress shirt in this heat," Berith sassed.

"At least I look presentable. You might as well be wearing a bikini to school!"

"Really? It's called dressing for the weather, GENIUS..."

Groaning, their father turned up the air conditioning AGAIN, hoping to silence his brood for 30 more minutes.

"I thought you guys were adults," he grumbled under his breath.

To Jeralt's relief, 30 minutes was all they needed to reach the university. Parking was, as usual, hell on earth, and it became instantly obvious why Rhea wanted a driving instructor before the new quarter started. High end, big name, showroom model cars lined the lot...Almost none of them in the lines. One small white buggy with the ugliest car lashes and carstache wasn't even really parked in the lot. His kids were stunned.

"...HOW is this level of bad parking even possible?" Byleth asked, squeezing his way between two cars parked diagonally in the wrong direction, each with one wheel on the same line.

"These drivers are all blind or have brain damage," his sister responded, sqeezing herself against the wall and an entire line of bumpers parked too closely at odd angles.

"You kids get inside and acquaint yourselves. I've gotta find some place to park this AND the trailer," Jeralt hollered out the window, leaving the kids in the dust. They both just flipped him the bird as he sped off. With love, of course.

"Welcome to Garreg Mach university, Byleth, Berith," a familiar man with a familiar patch of green said as formally as possible.

"Hi uncle Cichol," they said in unison, mischievous grins on their faces.

"Don't call me that here..." said man grumbled, his hands to his tired face as quickly as they opened their mouths. It was very obvious that the new students were already taking their toll on their dear uncle, who, as their dad would say, "has a wound up fishing pole stuck up his ass." Sometimes, they were genuinely surprised cousin Cethleann was his daughter.

"Look, I know...Rhea pulled some strings to get you in here, but I have no desire to let nepotism run your tenure here. I expect the same, if not more, dedication and performance in your-"

"YOU'RE HEEEERRRRE!" Berith was quickly thrown the ground, spinny office chair and all, with their cousin hugging her in a suffocating death grip.

"Flayn, please, this is hardly the time or place to-" He was ignored as his daughter proceeded to trap Byleth in a life-threatening hug as well. Did ANYONE listen to him?

*SLAM*

"SETETH! THE DINING HALL'S ON FIRE AGAIN!"

This is why he kept whiskey in his drawer.

After the complete and flaming disaster that could just barely be called an orientation ended, the Eisner siblings were shooed out of "Seteth's" office and dragged along campus by Flayn. Their first stop was, of course, the burnt but still running dining hall.

Jeralt and his wife raised Byleth and Berith well. Or, he likes to believe they did. They had a well-stocked fridge and pantry, an open kitchen, and both brats were taught basic hunting, fishing, foraging, cleaning, and cooking skills. Food to them was a simple matter, but one that always brought joy. And then, there was THIS.

"What the fu-Is that a caviar bar? Ylissean bear jerky ham?!" Byleth practically sprinted to the stall in question, taking in the fragrance of one of his favorite meats. Berith rolled her eyes...Until she caught sight of the dessert bar.

"The food here is all covered by tuition, with only high-end ingredients, seasonal produce, and cooks from respective regions in the kitchen," Flayn happily explained, magically showing up beside her with a fully stacked plate of sushi. Despite the very visible black char on the walls, the buffet (like FUCK it was school cafeteria) remained very much bustling. Byleth, at this point, was crying tears of joy as he stuffed his face with stew and kabobs. Berith was shamelessly stockpiling cremes, ice creams, pastries, and chocolates on her armful of platters. As she turned the corner to find a seat for her family, she just came face to chest with a blue and white muscle shirt.

"Uhhh...'Scuze me..." The chest wouldn't budge. Looking up, she saw messy, orange hair and brown eyes she wanted to stab with her plastic fork.

"Didn't see you at my orientation! And I should know, I remembered every beauty in my class. Who might you be?" The stranger's poor attempt at flirting was stopped by a loud thud...To the back of the poor shmuck's head.

"SYLVAIN JOSE GAUTIER! STOP HARASSING PEOPLE!" A very angry blonde with a heavy tote bag hollered, clearly the one responsible for the redhead's silence. Berith looked at the man now on the ground, wondering he was still man, probably another friend of theirs, made over to, without so much as a blink, step on Sylvain's head.

"Don't worry too much about him. He's got a thick skull. I haven't seen you here before. My name's Ingrid Brandl Galatea," the woman politely greeted, holding a hand out to Berith. Byleth, still gnawing on a rib, showed up behind his sister to look at the whimpering body.

"Byleth Wilhelm Eisner. This is my baby sister, Berith Sothis Eisner-OOF!" She did NOT appreciate that "baby" comment.

The small group stared at them curiously.

"You're teaching us how to drive?"

"You can drive my Ferrari any-OOW!"

"...Where'd they go?"

"YOU SCARED THEM OFF, YOU IDIOT!"

The next facility Flayn led them to was the school botanical gardens, greenhouse and nursery. Tucked between the scenic Garreg Mach lake (with a "please pay before fishing" sign by the dock) and the natural sciences building, it was a lovely sight. Blooming flowers greeted the guests with a humid breeze, the smell of citrus fruit and fresh vegetation surrounding the air.

"While only science students can plant new growths in here, any student can request a share of herbs, veggies, flowers, or fruits grown in here, for a fee of course," Flayn explained, pointing to the prices and order form located at the front desk. A large, dark man was at said desk, tending to a pot of orchids.

"Hi Dedue! These are my cousins, Byleth and Berith! They'll be joining this year's class soon!" The large man turned to the trio, offering a small smile and wave.

"He's an exchange student from Duscur. He's been in here every day since orientation, and he's the best cook I've met in the student body!" Flayn quite happily said, making grand gestures that went largely ignored by the student in question.

"Only because everyone else you know has never had to feed themselves before," Dedue said, his deep voice quiet and mirthful as he placed the orchid on a shelf behind him.

"...Not even eggs?" Byleth asked, a part of him scared of the answer.

"I know people here who've burnt water." The Eisner siblings fell silent. This place was kind of getting weird...

Their final stop for the day was the student library and lounge. Byleth found it odd that a place of study was situated in the same place as a room of relaxation-no, indulgence, while Berith wondered why in the goddess' name did a university need an entire floor of touch screen and gaming PCs, a room with more games and gaming consoles then their local game store, AND an whole floor and deck covered wall-to-wall with tabletop games. The library itself was also worth beholding. It was as stacked with books of every subject imaginable in almost as many languages, and as big as a national museum collection. There was a designated ROOM for comics and graphic novels, and more fiction than their local overpriced chain bookstore.

"This...IS a school...Right?" Byleth asked, watching a few students running a Fortnight battle across the hall.

"This isn't a normal thing in colleges? I mean, the courses and tests are killer, wouldn't the unwinding be just as important?" Flayn seemed genuinely clueless to what a "normal" college was like. Did they just come from the one poor side of their mother's family?

At the end of their day, waiting outside a now thankfully empty school parking lot, the Eisner siblings looked at the sprawling, shiny silver building behind them, and sighed.

"This is why dad says this place is for rich bitches. Look at what tuition has to cover!" Byleth said, chewing his last slice of bear jerky ham. Berith sighed.

"Our classmates can't cook, can't park, can't drive, and can't take no for an answer. We're in a totally different world, bro. Hope we won't be in over our heads," Berith sighed, feeling strangely exhausted. Their moaning and groaning was thankfully put on pause when a series of loud, obnoxious honks made their way into the lot. Jeralt was back, albeit without one trusty ol' trailer, but they were heading home, and they couldn't have been more relieved.

"So, how'd your day go?"


	3. The Road To Hell Is All Backstreets

**The Road To Hell Is All Backstreets**

Jeralt was up at 7am on the dot, groggy, grumpy, and in desperate need of coffee. He had to make the drive from home to Garreg Mach's DMV, submit his final paperwork, get it approved, then deliver it to Cichol's office in the span of 1 and a half hours. He was going to meet some of the brats he'll be instructing very soon, some of whom would be his kids' classmates. At least he still remembers how to hide the bodies.

Morning traffic wasn't an issue. Google maps led him down a few residential areas and even got him in a great parking spot!...Until he got to the DMV itself. The line stretched out from the front door past the back door and into the parking lot. And the damn place wasn't even open yet. He groans, trudging to the back of said line. Looking down at his smartwatch (his kids insisted he get one), he was relieved to see 7:57am, itching for some free coffee.

"Number 058 to desk 16 please," the computerized voice echoed out, Jeralt heaving a heavy sigh. The little slip of paper in his hand read "069," and he had been waiting to be called in well past half an hour. Didn't people come in early to AVOID waiting? He absolutely DREADED letting Cichol-Seteth-know he might be a TAD late, but the lines weren't moving and his papers weren't getting validated any time soon. They didn't even have free coffee in this Goddess-forsaken torture box. Flicking his wrist to access his smartwatch, he scrolled through his contacts lazily until he stumbled on said brother-in-law's office number. As he was about to press dial, a loud "Number 069 to desk 13 please." He practically lept out of his seat, half out of surprise, half in relief. Squeezing through the other rows of seats, he walked up to said desk 13, greeted by a blonde, portly woman with poorly bleached blonde hair and an expression that said "I'm too tired to care, but I have to be here, so here we are."

"How can I help you?" she asked, not even bothering to look up from her phone. Jeralt held in a groan.

"I have some forms to submit for approval," he answered, placing the stack of papers onto the desk. He got a blank stare back. Taking the pile of papers into her hands, she began shuffling through them, rather apathetically, before just flipping them all over.

"One moment, sir," she stated, getting up and walking behind a doorway to an adjacent, "Employees Only" room. Jeralt looked down at his watch again (8:18am) and grit his teeth. Oh, he better not have to wait long for this...

8:29am. Eleven minutes and the woman had not returned. He was going to be late. Flicking his (totally not jittery or shaking) wrist again, made the command to call Seteth and inform him of his...Situation. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. "Jeralt?"

"Hey, Seteth, I'll be running a bit late, I'm stuck at the DMV."

"I understand, and I'll gladly wait until 9:00 to introduce you to some of your new students. Now then, I have some duties to return to. Thank you for letting me know." Jeralt bristled. 30 minutes? He gave him 30 FUCKING MINUTES?!

"Sir, I have your documents." FINALLY! Jeralt swiftly turned his attention back to the desk, the bored blonde just making it into her chair. The stack of documents seemed to have grown.

"Here are your approved copies, and I'll need you to read, verify, and sign these 15 forms for our office," she said, handing him a pen. The print on the papers were nothing new to him, but the font and fine print were downright microscopic. He was sure he'd need his daughter's glasses if every form from this hellhole was written like this. With practiced patience, all 15 forms, 25 initials, and 20 signatures were completed in under 15 minutes. Handing them over, Jeralt looked down at his watch to see how much time he had to make it to the university.

"Here's your final approval form, thank you for coming to the Garreg Mach DMV, and have a nice day," the clerk said, tone flatter than his son's, as she shooed him away. Jeralt gladly made a run for it, glad he FINALLY got the hard part over with.

"You are on the fastest possible route. Estimated time of arrival is 8:59am." Jeralt looked around, the streets quiet and desolated. Google maps gave him a fast track through the back streets, but this road itself looked backstreet. He had went through three parking lots for trucks, a whole district of trailer parks, and was even instructed to follow on more than a few railroad tracks. He was jumpy. Finally seeing the silver top of the university, he came to a relieved stop at a red light. Three minutes. He'd make it in three minutes.

Knock knock knock

A sound was coming from the passenger window. Turning his head, Jeralt saw two haggard men with cardboard signs reading "Do as the Goddess would" and "A little bit of anything will do." Rolling down the window to explain his cashless situation (he wasn't even wearing proper shoes), he was quickly taken aback when one of the men shoved the blade of a rusty knife into his car.

"GIMME ALL THE CASH YOU GOT, GEEZER!" Oh, hell no. He was NOT dealing with this. Not even waiting for the light to turn, the Brake-Breaker hit the gas, doing a terrifying left turn, hearing a satisfying snap as the would-be assailant's knife dropped onto his passenger seat. Unfortunately, he was now recklessly weaving through cars honking, drivers shouting and flipping him off, and narrowly missing cyclists and morning students as he more or less drifted into the staff parking lot. Car off, keys and papers in hand, door locked and slammed shut, he made his way inside the building with a minute to spare.

"Glad you made it-Really Jeralt? An old t-shirt, sweatpants, and...Crocs? Did you just get out of bed and started driving?" Seteth blandly stated, clearly disapproving of his new driving instructor's clothes. Jeralt, deprived of coffee, time, and patience, couldn't give less of a fuck if he tried.

"Yeah, I did. Got a problem with that?" he responded, eyes narrowed, as if daring the dean to make another statement. Which sadly, he did.

"As a matter of fact, I do. Some of our students are coming in with their parents, influential donors to our esteemed establishment, to meet the man who will be responsible for their childrens' futures on the road. I only imagine their response to...This...Won't be acceptable by any standard," Seteth remarked quite plainly, as if completely ignorant to how DONE Jeralt was.

"I. Need. My. Coffee. Then I'll come back later to meet these wealthy motherfuckers later, and I'll be better dressed, okay?" the tired man bit out, getting out of his chair. Seteth, used to his attitude when deprived of sleep and caffine, simply pointed to the two coffee pots by his office back door. "Almyran or Adrestian roast?"


	4. What I Learned In Driving School Today

**What I Learned In Driving School Today Is**

Berith and Byleth yawned in the back of their dad's car. Jeralt's driving was fast, abrupt, and very pushy. Clearly, he had had one shitty morning.

"Did you have your coffee today?" Byleth asked, a little scared of the way his father just swerved in front of a motorcyclist into the next lane over.

"Yeah, Cichol gave me a jug of that green coffee stuff from Dagda with my Almyran black roast," he grumbled, his large, now empty cup teetering in the cupholder clearly too small for it.

Berith, with her own travel mug of coffee and tea swill (as her brother and father called it), asked, "Why do we need to come with you to meet these people? I don't need a reminder of how awful people with too much money treat their drivers and chauffeurs."

"You brats'll be going to class with some of these spoiled shits, and it'll do you both some good to socialize with'em early. Never did get to let you guys make friends as kids," Jeralt replied, turning harshly toward their designated exit. "Besides, if I've gotta be trapped talking to a bunch of snooty rich bitches, you're both suffering with me." A loud "UUUUUUGGHHHHHHHH!" was heard from the back of the car.

The classroom Rhea gave the Eisners was...Pretty good. It wasn't a lecture hall by any means, but it comfortably fit up to 25 students at a given time, had excellent air conditioning, large windows for natural lighting, and had energy-efficient lights installed. The stretch of old, unused road outside was also great for practicing and hands-on lessons, with one of the school parking lots only a few blocks away. It even led right up to one of the main school buildings, so his kids could run to class with little trouble. But, as nice as his new room was, it didn't make up for who was occupying it with them at the moment...

"THE Brake-Breaker teaching my little Ferdie to drive?! Oh no, he's much too delicate.."

"Oh, I didn't think he even knew how to drive legally."

"Is he even qualified to be an educator? Never mind this is a THE most prestigious school on the continent!"

"What scandalous favor does Rhea have him doing for her? I don't think man with his reputation could get a job here without help..."

"SHUT UP AND SIT DOWN, EVERYBODY!" Jeralt commanded, the room falling into a hush.

"Now then, as you all know, I'm Jeralt Reus Eisner. I was known as the Brake-Breaker in the racing circuit and on the track. But, I'll have you know I'm just as qualified to show you how to drive on a regular basis. I didn't get into racing out of nowhere. Whether you're here for your first license, applying for a Special District of Garreg Mach license, or trying to get an international driving permit, I have the paperwork, qualifications, and experience to show you all the ropes." He, Byleth, and Berith noted when the aforementioned students began organizing themselves into seats.

"To the parents, car owners, and drivers here today, I'll have you know I'm also a certified mechanic here in Garreg Mach and in my native country of Faergus. If that doesn't comfort you, I also earned my mechanical and civil engineering degrees here many years ago. If any damages happen to your vehicle and are proven to be MY fault, I will repair it myself. I'm not an educator by trade, but I'm here with federal approval to work as an extension of the DMV here to teach driving school. Any questions so far?"

The shouting that followed and hands that shot up scared Jeralt for a brief moment before he waved Berith and Byleth to him. He handed each of them a sheet of note paper and a clipboard. "Go around and ask for the students' names and whoever they're with. I wanna make sure I know what I'm gonna be working with today," he instructed, pushing his children into the crowd.

"Let me rephrase that. Anyone here have a question that's NOT about my racing days or personal life?" The silence that followed was as deafening as the ruckus before it. One lone hand was up, belonging to a bright-eyed redhead in the front corner of the class. With a nod, Jeralt gestured to them.

"Mr. Eisner, if we make a formal request, can we get racing or auto mechanical lessons from you?!" said student asked, an eager smile on her face. She looked awfully familiar for a kid in such an expensive school, but he couldn't quite put his finger on why...

"No." The girl looked crestfallen for a brief second before shooting her hand up again. Jeralt gave her a withering glare, but she wouldn't be deterred. "I'm just here to teach you how to drive. I don't have teaching credentials and I'm not gonna risk my job to show a daredevil how to wreck their car. So again, NO." The girl, although still visibly unsatisfied, put her hand down and stayed quiet.

Jeralt turned to the impressive whiteboard behind him, uncapping a brand new black marker. As he made his notes, he could hear the very faint whispers of Byleth and Berith taking down the last of the students' names.

"Here's the breakdown. I'm here Monday and Wednesday, 9am to 1pm and 3pm to 7pm. Monday and Wednesday mornings are for those of you beginning drivers with little to no driving experience, Monday afternoons are for testing and registering for a Garreg Mach license, and Wednesday afternoons are for those of you here to register and test for an international driving permit. You'll need to make appointments for these time slots at least a week in advance and show up ON TIME. Any questions about this schedule?" More hands shot up.

"If our classes conflict with any of these hours? Surely you're aware of the hectic workload our lives as students already place on us. I was hoping for a bit more flexibility in this extracurricular...Endeavor," a rat-faced goth (?) asked from their seat by the back corner, a creepy, smug look on his face. Jeralt decided he didn't like this kid one bit.

"And as esteemed college students, I'd think planning ahead would be something you'd be well versed in by now. If it makes you feel any better, I hold classes on Fridays by appointment at the DMV too. Just letting you know punk, you can get by without a degree from a fancy school like this, but it'll be painfully hard to get around anywhere without a vehicle and a driver's license. So don't call this class an extracurricular. I'm doing a good chunk of you a good deed by holding classes and practices here instead of making you drive out even more," Jeralt responded, giving the vampy brat a look that would burn holes into Dracula's skull. He turned and nodded at another student in dead center of the room.

"How many classes do we need to attend? As important as learning how to operate a vehicle is, some of us won't have full access due to not only our own studies, but our family's obligations," a kid with the ugliest haircut in history asked, posing as if he was being photographed for an newspread.

"...Uh, fancypants, I JUST told you by appointment. You'll come in as many times as you need until you get your license. Not that hard to figure out," Jeralt asked, trying not to laugh at how fallen the young man's face was. The others in the room didn't even make an attempt to hide their mirth. In the middle of the giggling, one of the...Chaperones stood up and practically roared "Don't you have your own practice vehicle?! My Lamborghini is VERY expensive, and while I'd be beyond proud that my son earns his license in it, I refuse to believe that it can escape unscathed!" Clearly, this man (and Jeralt would bet a good half of the "parents" here) loved his fancy social status symbol more than his, clearly embarrassed and uncomfortable, son. He needed a drink.

"No one's telling you to let your high-school grad drive in a fucking Lambo. While I'm here teaching at this school, I'm not provided a practice car. That's at the DMV, and on Fridays, AS I SAID BEFORE. And if you're more concerned about your expensive metal box than your own kid getting around, it might be time to get your priorities in order." The man was now huffy and quite red in the face, whispers from the many other influential families echoing around the classroom. All hands were now down, and the attention off of the class altogether. Byleth tapped his dad on the shoulder, pointing at the clock above the door. Finally.

"Thank you all for coming to get yourselves acquainted with my class. Hope to see some of you in here starting next week." Still talking in whispers, students and their parents (?) alike walked out of the classroom, leaving the Eisners alone with their sign-in sheets and notes.

"Did you get the names of ratface and bad hair?" Jeralt grumbled, genuinely curious about the oddball students he might be contending with.

"Uhh...The goth was one...Hubert Von Vestra, from Enbarr, Adrestia. He didn't come with a chaperone, but was with a few other students," Byleth responded.

"Lorenz Gloucester was the one who needs his hairdresser jailed. He and his dad are from the ULA, and they both can't shut up," Berith groaned, making her displeasure very, VERY known.

"Dad of the year?" Jeralt asked, running a hand down his tired face. "VON AEGIR," his kids exclaimed in unison, knowing the father-son duo were very keen to reintroduce themselves to EVERYONE IN THE ROOM.

"What about that redhead girl? I feel like I've seen her before somewhere..." he continued, pulling his car keys from his jean pocket with a little bit of struggle. He might have to buy some bigger jeans soon.

His kids looked at him in complete confusion. "Dad, is your memory okay?" Byleth asked, his expression wide-eyed and worried.

"You don't remember who that was?" Berith added, seemingly shocked. Their father shook his head in the negative.

"Remember that time on our road trip for mom and we were in that town in ULA? Sauin or something? The one with your favorite bar and the best bar food we've ever had?" Jeralt nodded, Byleth's words bringing up memories of a small hotel bar in the dead of night, offering to let them stay in exchange for fixing up the locals' car problems.

"That little girl with her dad whose truck was so old and beat-up we practically had dinner with him every night for an entire month to get it running again? Who we played with in the garage? That girl. That was Leonie Pinelli." A spark of recognition dawned on the old man's face.

"Holy shit, the pipsqueak who kept asking us to show her how to race? Goddess dammit!"


	5. Forget The Kids, I'M Not Alright

**Forget The Kids, I'M Not Alright**

Seteth was a patient man. A sensible man. He had to be, as a stressed widower single dad, brother to a two-faced control freak (don't tell Seiros he said that), and dean of a school filled with kids too rich and privileged to bother with consequences. And now, add to the fact he had to play gatekeeper to said kids before they learned from his...INTERESTING brother-in-law how to (hopefully) NOT commit vehicular manslaughter, no one should blame him for bringing scotch, bourbon, and vodka into his office. For shame.

"Cichol, dear brother of mine, why did I find alcohol in your office?" Speak of the devil and she will come.

"What were you doing in my office?" Seteth responded, although he already sounded defeated. He was going to need those drinks sooner than he had anticipated.

"I asked first," Rhea stated, her tone flat. He'd better answer or she'd find a way to make his life even harder...Like when they were children.

"...I didn't expect this year's new students to be so...Problematic. After six or seven kitchen fires, one or three exploding dorm rooms, and more than one complication in the student resource rooms, I'm sure anyone would need a drink," Seteth sighed. The look his sister gave him screamed amusement, even if to the untrained eye, she looked like she sympathized with him. HAH.

"Well, while I understand you're having a hard time, it would set a terrible standard should our students find out that their dean is hoarding liquor in his office. And what would the higher-ups say if they caught wind?" Despite her hidden sadism, she did make good points. But she also didn't bother giving her dear brother any credit either.

"Please, no one's allowed into this room unless I'm present. I lock it before leaving, even for the smallest things. Besides, the liquor drawer is under lock and key. And no student would be inclined to look through this place anyway. I have neither grades, transcripts, nor records," Seteth defended, showing Rhea the keys he hid on his person.

What he didn't expect was the school chairman to start laughing. Not sure whether to be concerned or insulted, he raised a brow and let her continue. "Oh, Cichol, you have more than enough students who know how to pick locks and hotwire cars. You're so formal, you've not a clue what any of these children can really do! I mean, I watched one of them switch out your coffee the other day and have a few of your drinks in your office, and you never caught on!" She resumed her cackling at his expense (what else was new?), and Seteth felt himself grow cold. Oh goddess above what demons had been admitted this year?

"AND WHY DIDN'T YOU STOP THEM?!" he practically squawked, trembling in panic. As usual, Rhea gave him no reassurance.

"They were having so much fun! And I was impressed that you didn't notice your coffee was mixed with dirt," she said, snickering.

He wanted to know who. Oh, they were being put on academic probation for-"And no, I'm not telling you who they were. They didn't cause any major harm to you or the school, and they're too bright to be let go." Traitor. Rhea always was unreasonably lenient toward the students most of the time.

"Why are you like this?" Seteth asked, tone quiet as a whisper and as strained as his old sweatpants. Rhea just responded with a smile and walked out of his office. Without another moment, he pulled out a tall glass and reached for the drinking drawer key. Until his phone buzzed on his table. With the reflexes of a hungry fat cat, he caught it before it hit the ground, but was very concerned with who was calling.

"Jeralt?" An annoyed groan from the other end confirmed the caller ID.

"I just met some of these brats and their parents, and I just...Can't. Need to get shitfaced and go fishing. You in? These kids must be wrecking you up too." Never in his life had Cichol ever felt more overjoyed to have Jeralt in the family (not including his baby sister's wedding or the births of his nephew and niece of course).

"I'll meet you at the usual spot. I'll even bring the drinks." They had A LOT to complain about.


	6. How To Party 101 (Part 1 of 2)

**How To Party 101**

Byleth, Berith, and Cethleann looked down at the two whimpering men before them. Huddled up together in the back of a silver pick-up truck by the local lake were Jeralt and Cichol, red-faced and out cold. The perimeter of the truck was littered with bottles, and the cooler they had brought was full to the point of occasionally moving. When they had gotten a call from their fathers, this wasn't what they had in mind...

"Should we take them home?" Cethleann asked, prodding her twitching father with the handle of his fishing net. Byleth looked at the two old men with a dead stare. "No. Leave'em," he said, flat and cold.

Berith was already dragging the fish cooler into the back of their father's car, having done quick work of taking Jeralt's keys. "You're driving, bro," she stated, tossing said keys at her brother's head. Byleth shot her a disapproving look. "What? Uncle Cichol has the pick-up, they can make it home!"

Cethleann insisted on taking the fish back to her place. With her father being dean, they were quite comfortably located in a private estate overlooking the university. Byleth and Berith were a bit jealous of their enormous yard (it looked more like a botanical garden though), pool, and patio with enough furniture to host a gala. If they ever hosted any kind of social event, of course.

"Since dad's out cold at the lake, and we have so much fish...And you guys can drive...We should have a welcome party for you guys! We haven't hosted here since mom died, and it'd be a great way to get rid of all...This," their sweet cousin suggested, waving at the now definitely shaking fish cooler sitting in the middle of her kitchen. While the Eisners had never been good at, or really allowed to participate in social gatherings and parties, in a large, fancy house like this, at Cethleann's request, it was hard to silence the teen rebels in them, and they almost instantly agreed.

They had no plan and no clue what to do, but driving through to the university, they didn't quite care. At the moment, Byleth was behind the wheel, Berith shouting out the window to as many fellow classmates as they could, and Cethleann trying to get her address out to as many peers as she could. Because there was NO way her and her cousins WEREN'T having friends over after this. As Byleth told her in his infinite wisdom, easier to ask forgiveness than permission.

After driving around the main campus for the fifth time, they made it back to Seteth's residence to prepare for the potential onslaught of visitors. To their surprise though, there was already a line of cars parked out in the front. "Uhhh...Hi guys, I thought we mentioned the party's at like, 8?" Byleth said, awkwardly making his way into the crowd, letting Flayn through to open her house door to let everyone inside.

"It IS you guys! Why didn't you tell us you were related to Seteth?" a familiar nest of red hair said, taking Berith's hand in his.

"Uhhh...Sylvan, was it?" she said, wriggling her hand out of his.

"It's Sylvain, but yeah, that's me! I'm honored you remember this-" He was dragged off by his dark-haired friend though, the blonde girl from the dining hall incident making her way toward them as well. She made a stop in front of Sylvain, who instantly started to look a bit nervous.

"You weren't bothering them again, were you? 'Cuz I might be inclined to tell Mr. Eisner you're hitting on his daughter like a creep, and I'm pretty sure he knows more than a few ways to make you disappear," the blonde girl, Ingrid, said to her now grimacing friend, eyebrow raised in a very passive but effective threat.

"...Did you REALLY drag us ALL out here just to hit on Eisner's daughter?" the black-haired one added, brow furrowed and hand now gripping Sylvain's shirt collar in a tight fist. Berith and Byleth made a move to at least try to separate them before a fight started (and before the actual party no less!), but were thankfully interceded by two very large figures shoving the two away from each other.

"Felix, NO. Glenn and Miklan don't want to hear about you giving each other black eyes AGAIN," a tall, blonde young man stated, firmly holding Felix back. The other man, Byleth and Berith remembered as Dedue, kept a whining Sylvain at bay, rolling his eyes.

"Dimitri, let me go. This hormonal asshat dragged us all out on MY DAY OFF, to hit on a girl HE JUST MET DAYS AGO! LEMME THROTTLE HIM!" Felix began violently struggling against the tall one, Dimitri apparently, who gave the Eisner siblings an apologetic smile. "I'm so sorry about my friends, they're great people, I swear!" said man said, rather weakly as Felix continued struggling like an angry cat in his hold. Byleth could only stare awkwardly, his sister raising a disbelieving eyebrow.

"Oh, um, I'm Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, by the way-OW!" Felix unceremoniously elbowed Dimitri in the abdomen, still very intent on causing Sylvain (if not his other friends as well) harm.

"Look, pal, if I don't drag you out, you'll end up a grumpy shut-in like Glenn and none of us want or need that. Lighten up, socialize, find a girlfriend! Or boyfriend, we don't judge!" Sylvain told the still writhing man, as if unafraid of his fate. With a swift back kick to Dimitri's shin, Felix finally broke free, launching himself at the redhead into a line tackle. Sylvain fell with a thud and Felix huffed. "Flayn, can I use a guest room? I just want to sleep," he grumbled. Completely unaffected, the hostess smiled and pointed upstairs. "Seven bedrooms, five bathrooms! Just make sure not to use dad's room," she said, letting the grump go.

"HEY, NO! Felix! You've been napping all day! That's all you do! Wake up, go to work, come home, nap, do homework, sleep, rinse and repeat! It's your day off, and you need social interaction!" Sylvain shouted, running up the stairs to pull his friend back down. Felix definitely looked like he was going to shove his pal down the grand staircase, but they were thankfully interrupted.

"Hey, there's a Styrofoam cooler out on the patio, does it belong to anyone? It's pretty heavy," a new voice called, followed by even more shuffling through the doorway.

"That's ours!" Dimitri responded, he and Dedue heading out to get it. From the staircase, Sylvain and Felix waved to the newcomers, and Flayn practically jumped at one of them. "HI ANNETTE!" The small girl, Annette, returned the hug, a pair of taller blondes stepping in behind them, each carrying two rather large boxes.

"Oh my, it's already quite lively! And here I thought we'd be late!" One of the newcomers said, smiling as Annette ran around greeting everyone with a hug (even moody, grouchy Felix, who actually hugged her back!).

"What exactly is this party for?" the other guest said, looking around the room, seeming rather lost. His eyes stopped at Byleth and Berith, suddenly freezing.

"Emile, this party is to welcome those two to the school. Go say hi to them!" his companion encouraged, giving him a gentle nudge in the Eisners' direction. Byleth, being ever so polite, took the boxes out of his hands, giving him a rather awkward smile. "Um, hi, I'm Byleth Eisner, and that's my sister, Berith. Nice to meet you." he said, slowly taking the boxes into Flayn's kitchen.

"I'm Mercedes von Martritz, and that's my baby brother, Emile von Bartels, but he's enrolled under a different name." Byleth jumped at the voice behind him, another two boxes being placed on the (unnecessarily large) dining table. "Sorry," Mercedes said, watching with a motherly smile as Byleth caught his breath and calmed his heart rate.

"Please, I currently go by Jeritza von Hyrm," Mercedes' quiet brother said, standing outside the kitchen corner. Berith, from the living room, gave him a puzzled look, an eyebrow raised.

"Why do you two have such different names?" She asked.

"It's complicated," both siblings responded eerily in unison.

"Excuse us, coming through!" Berith and Jeritza were pushed aside as Dedue and Dimitri returned inside with a VERY large Styrofoam cooler balanced on their shoulders. Byleth was shoved against the wall as Mercedes sidestepped the two, not even flinching when the box was slapped on the table with a slam and a tremble. Sylvain, waltzing in, asked "Oh, shit, what'd you guys bring? I didn't even remember you left that in my trunk." Dedue gave him a dirty scowl.

"You dragged Ingrid and Felix inside without bothering to help us with it." Dimitri also shot the flirt a look of disapproval. Turning to Byleth, who was no longer squashed against the wall, and Berith, Dimitri and Dedue opened the box with a warm, if not shy grin.

"We heard it was a welcome party, so we wanted to bring you some welcome gifts. I hope you don't mind. Dedue here is an amazing cook, so we brought some simple snacks, and came to help you cook! Oh, and..." he said, laying out cold platters of rustic snacks and dips next to the boxes Mercedes and Jeritza brought. He also pulled out two small bouquets, blushing.

"Welcome to Garreg Mach University," Dedue finished, placing a bouquet in each Eisners' arms. The house instantly felt warmer, friendlier, and-

_**HOOOOOOONNNNNNK! HONK! HONKHONKHONKHOOOOONNNNNK!**_

Okay, nevermind, redacted.

"STOP POUNDING THE HORN, CASPAR!" A ruckus outside got everyone's attention, Dimitri running for the door. Flayn, nervous about the neighbors calling the police, and Berith and Byleth, amused and curious, followed. They passed Felix on the sofa, Annette trying to keep him from apparently storming outside, and were greeted with a sight just as chaotic.

Dimitri was hugging a girl with long white hair tied in a side ponytail, who was screaming at a boy with cyan hair, also getting chewed out by a rat-faced goth in a black sedan...Hubert, if they recalled from Jeralt's intoductory class?

"It's great to see you again, El!" Dimitri sighed, immune to the shouting between the girl he was hugging and her...Friends? Then again, considering his own circle inside the house, it didn't surprise Byleth in the slightest.

"Oh! You're Hubert von Vestra! The sassy rat-faced goth guy!" Berith just blurted out, silencing any further quarreling as the batch of newcomers turned to look at her in shock.

"Excuse me?" Hubert responded, clearly unamused from his place at the driver's seat.

"I remember you from dad's intro class. You were also with these guys and two others, weren't you?" she continued, completely unaffected by the glare of absolute disdain she was receiving. Even Byleth was cuing her to PLEASE shut up. Instead, the cyan-haired receiver of earlier's scolding just started laughing, falling over and onto the lawn, tears streaming from his face as he clutched his gut, now cackling and howling. The girl Dimitri called El was hiding her own giggles in the tall man's chest, definitely choking on her own laughter.

"Hubie, that's not the first time you've been called a rat. Or bat. Or vampire." Another woman, dressed in a red cocktail dress too fancy for a house party, and her companion, who looked like an orange-haired Fabio stepped out from the back of the black vehicle, also looking amused at Berith's jab at their driver.

"...Look, you and Ferdinand call me when you're all ready to leave. Just make sure Edelgard is able to walk and Caspar's emptied his stomach contents before getting back in my car," Hubert practically growled out, still glaring poisoned daggers at Berith.

"HAH!..H-hey, com'on, I don't drink THAT much!" the boy on the ground retorted, catching his breath from his laughing fit.

"Caspar, you once had fifteen shots in one sitting, said you were fine, and threw up outside your cousin's car window on the freeway half an hour later. Fifteen vodka shots," the lady in red stated, tone and expression flat. Caspar just shrugged nonchalantly, charging into Flayn's house. Flayn followed after him, definitely worried now.

"Well, if you insist on not joining us, I'll take care of everyone here. You just get back to taking care of Bernadetta and Linhardt," orange Fabio, or, Ferdinand apparently, said, waving to Hubert as he followed his friend inside. With a wave and a blown kiss, the last of Hubert's entourage waltzed in, the black vehicle speeding off.

"So, anything interesting happen before we showed up?" El, the girl beside Dimitri asked, walking inside with her friend behind her.

"Edelgard! Dorothea! Glad to see you lovely ladies here! You almost missed a fight between me and Felix," Sylvain said, taking a hand of the two girls who just walked in. The brown haired one, Dorothea, yanked her hand away, giving him a very unsavory look. The other girl, Edelgard or El, drew her hand back and wiped it on her jacket, a look of disgust on her face. Dimitri hid a laugh behind a cough at the sight.

"It...Wasn't really a fight, Felix is just upset Sylvain pulled him away from bed on his day off," he explained.

"Have you upset Ingrid too? I don't know why you keep doing this, and why she insists on saving your sorry ass every time you decide to make a mockery of yourself." Dorothea gave Sylvain an even darker look at the explanation, the man under her scrutiny putting his hands up in defense. With one more look, the young lady walked up the the supposed guests of honor, a flirty strut in her step.

"Hey there! You're the Brake-Breaker's kids, huh? I see good looks run in the family, 'cuz if I didn't have Ferdie, I might want to hook up with one of you!" Byleth looked nervous, blushing behind his calmer sister, who returned a polite smile. The white haired one who had been with Dimitri also approached them, nudging Dorothea playfully.

"Already hitting on them? For all you say about Sylvain, if Ferdinand didn't sing you praises, I'd think you were just as bad. Oh, hello, my name is Edelgard von Hresvelg! It's a pleasure to meet you face-to-face. I'm surprised someone else noticed Hubert's rodent-like features!" Edelgard held her hand out, Berith shaking it in good faith. Byleth reached his hand out as well, surprised at the small woman's very firm (crushing) grip. They were jostled out of their social formalities by a series of thuds and crashes, the house falling eerily silent.

"Ooo...Oops?" Caspar squeaked from his place by the door, a plate of fish Dedue had been working on now on the floor, surrounded by broken china. Flayn looked at Caspar as angrily as she could.

"CASPAR! YOU ARE SOOO LUCKY THAT'S NOT THE GOOD CHINA, OR YOU WOULD BE SOOO DEAD, GODDESS BE DAMNED!" she screamed, face red, kitchen knife in hand. Mercedes tried to very gently pry it from the angry girl's hand, but Dedue beat her to it and resumed saving their feast. Ferdinand marched up to the still apologizing Caspar and dragged him out of the way by the collar of his tank top, face resembling that of an embarrassed, huffy mom.

"Is this everyone we invited?" Byleth asked, counting heads as Flayn and Berith retrieved some plastic and melamine plates. The dining table was as large as a conference room table, and could easily fit twenty people, but they were hoping it wouldn't come to that. So far, fifteen seats had been prepared as Mercedes, Dedue, Flayn, and Annette brought out dish after dish onto the center of the table. Their guests started pouring in, Berith and Byleth giving thanks as good hosts do (right?), when a loud knocking and string of ding-dongs echoed through the living room.

"Hey, we heard there's a welcome party going on in here, mind if we come in?!" The living room was once again filled with the onslaught of another bulk batch of students, all carrying huge boxes and equipment, led by a man in bright yellow with a mischievous twinkle in his green eyes. "Figured a party at Seteth's house wouldn't be very party-like, so we brought some goodies to share!" He made a beeline for Flayn, throwing her a hug, and turned to Berith and Byleth.

"Name's Claude von Reigan, class clown and best guest you'd ever meet," he said, giving the siblings a firm, friendly handshake and a wink. "I'm a damn good bartender and DJ too, so I've got drinks and music covered!" he continued, slapping his large backpack, immune to the worrying sound of glass clinking inside.

"HEY, MR. DJ, HOW ABOUT YOU HELP US ACTUALLY PUT IN THE KARAOKE MACHINE AND SHIT!?" a shrill voice followed, making Claude flinch. The shouting came from a girl in bright pink and red, hoisting up a hefty amp with a guy with the ugliest haircut ever.

"I remember you! Lorenz Gloucester, the guy with the really ugly hair!" Berith, once again blurted out, pointing to the man wearing too much purple, and who had been holding the other end of the amp. This time, Byleth also started unceremoniously choking on laughter Caspar bursting into it with him. Claude, now moving behind them, started cackling, barely making out a "I'll just start on drinks," as Lorenz sputtered to life, thoroughly offended as several others in Claude's group started giggling as well.

"I, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, find that statement wholly untrue and insulting, you-" he was stopped by Leonie smacking him in the head.

"You don't get to talk to my friends like that! Especially not when what they said is true!" she scolded, hauling a twelve pack toward the kitchen. After dropping the drinks on Claude's end of the table, she wrapped her arms tightly around Byleth, possibly trying to squeeze the air out of him. "It's SO good to see you guys again!" she gushed, pulling Berith into a bone-crushing hug as well. "Lemme introduce you guys, since Claude's busy POISONING PEOPLE'S DRINKS!" Claude, in turn, with a shaker in hand, flipped her an annoyed finger. Ignoring his sass, she joined Flayn briefly, pulling out more plates and utensils, setting them up on the table with almost professional efficiency, and proceeded to drag the Eisners back into the rowdy living room.

The karaoke machine was set up, amps plugged in on both sides, and a DJ table was set up at the side, plugged in to Flayn's big screen TV, perched on the wall. Lorenz way on the sofa, whimpering about his hair, a girl with a complicated braided updo comforting him.

"That's Marianne, Lorenz's girlfriend. The loud one's Hilda, Marianne and Claude's best friend. She's a manipulative, lazy bitch, but she knows everything. The big guy at the table's Raphael, he's like, the nicest guy you'll ever meet, and the four-eyes next to him is Ignatz. He's the best damn artist I've ever met. The kid with Claude is Cyril, who's been hosted in the von Reigan house since high school." Her pointing at everyone who arrived was a lot to take in, but at least Byleth and Berith didn't have to suffer the awkwardness of introductions again. With one more plug in place, Flayn's TV was now set up with everything needed for an adequate college party.

"HEY GUYS, SOUP'S ON!" the large one, Raphael, hollered from the dining table, his face tinged pink, one of Claude's concoctions in his hand. With a shrug, Leonie, Byleth and Berith squeezed into the available seats, thoroughly convinced Dedue and Mercedes were the best things to ever exist in a kitchen. It was looking like this would be a great semester.


	7. How To Party 102 (Part 2 of 2)

**How To Party 102**

Their dinner was coming along wonderfully. Byleth and Berith were learning more and more about their fellow colleagues, and had even started making plans for more get-togethers. Claude kept the drinks coming, Dedue's food kept impressing, and Mercedes' boxes of pastries and sweet treats closed the meal with flair.

Or, it should have, if she hadn't decided to throw pot brownie bites in with her treats. And with Claude's penchant for making his drinks a bit...Strong (like the beats he dropped), everything quickly devolved into madness.

"Oh my goddess, 'Thea's right, you're both SUPER hot," Edelgard, red faced and leaning on a dazed Dimitri, drawled out, pointing in Byleth and Berith's direction, just having finished her (hopefully) last drink of the evening. She, like Berith and Annette, liked her drinks sweet, but three hard slushies, an "O-Face" dessert drink, and three pot brownie bites later, clearly she had hit her sugar, booze, and high limit for the night. Dimitri declined drinking, but he had, for better or worse, inhaled a handful of Mercedes' brownies and was now resting his unsteady head on Edelgard's, staring out into space in the Eisner siblings' direction.

Dedue, the dedicated designated driver, sighed as he helped Flayn and Ignatz with the dishes, every so often turning to see if the house was still standing. Cyril, not a fan of idling as they had discovered, put away everything as the other three cleaned up. Claude had gone to the living room, taking requests for karaoke, his headphones on to protect his ears from the screeching that was Lorenz and Ferdinand's wasted attempt at the Backstreet Boys. Sylvain, while laid out on the loveseat, was desperately trying to talk to a drunk, sobbing Ingrid, Dorothea ready to break an empty beer bottle over his spinning head. Felix had at some point attempted to climb upstairs to a spare bedroom, but a full stomach, alcohol, and some weed had him passed out on the staircase, Annette singing him a very off-key lullaby, loudly, from her spot on the sofa.

"Berith, I think we should start sending them packing. It's getting pretty late," Byleth said, downing the rest of the "Dirty Dancer" Claude made for him. Berith, still sipping her own "O-Face," gave him an unfocused, glazed look.

"...Nah, I think we're fiiiinnnne," she slurred, one two many chocolatey delights in her head, attempting to reach for a tart. Jeritza, thankfully still sober, slapped her hand down and shook his head.

"You are most certainly finer than the others, but still far from sober," he stated, giving her a sharp glare. She giggled at his face in response.

"Oh goddess, Claude, what did you put in that? Lives up to its name!" she shouted, raising her empty glass in approval. Claude nervously chuckled from his seat in the living room.

"Can't tell you the whole recipe, but it's got hot chocolate, Brigidian creme, and coffee liquor as a base," he responded, flipping on another track for Hilda and Dorothea to belt out together. Berith was reaching for another brownie bite, but Jeritza, again, slapped her hand down.

"I believe as her brother, you should be at least attempting to stop her," he said, giving Byleth a pointed look. He shrugged in response.

"I don't ever have to. You'd be kinda shocked how quickly we recover from this shit. I mean, dad's ol' racing buddies let us join in on the drinks and stuff since I was like, 13, so eh."

Flayn, finished with the dishes and still quite red in the face, turned to her cousins in surprise.

"Uncle Jeralt let you drink at 13?! Lucky! I had to sneak away to try anything! Even if dad gets to drink in his office! Oh, yeah, I convinced Ashe and Claude to break into his office for some of his office drinks a few days ago. It was kinda fun!" she rambled, stumbling into one of the many unoccupied dining chairs near Byleth.

"How did you talk Ashe of all people into doing something like that?" Dedue, honestly surprised, asked as he dried his hands at the sink. Cyril shook his head in disbelief.

Out of nowhere, Dimitri bolted up alert, looking Byleth in the face, and loudly asked in his high, "Are you guys single? 'Cuz you're too hot to be single. Sylvain says hot people are always taken." Edelgard nodded slowly in agreement, not moving from her spot against Dimitri's shoulder.

"...I SUDDENLY FEEL VERY UNCOMFORTABLE!" Byleth squawked out, getting up from his chair and speed walking toward the bathroom. Alas, he walked right into the bathroom door.

"OCCUPI-BLEEEAAAARRRG!" someone shouted from behind the door. The splat that resounded did NOT sound like it made it into the bowl.

"IS THERE ANOTHER BATHROOM IN HERE?!" another voice hollered, the sound of pounding on the stairs, poor Felix rolling down the steps back onto the first floor with a thud. Frazzled, Flayn bolted toward the call, almost running Ignatz into the wall on the way.

"THERE'S ONE TO YOUR LEF-NO! NONONO-Too late." She dragged herself upstairs, seeing the disgusting mess on the bamboo flooring upstairs, tempted to march downstairs for another one of Claude's cocktails.

_**SLAP**_

"FOR THE LOVE OF GODDESS, YOU STUPID, DUMB, INSENSITIVE, IGNORANT, FUCKFACED IDIOT!" Ingrid screeched from the sofa, launching her drunk self at Sylvain, Dorothea on the floor in a failed attempt at stopping her, and Dimitri and Edelgard poking back in to watch. As Mercedes and Marianne began a small prayer for Sylvain's soul, the force of Ingrid landing on the boy brought the sofa down with them. Berith and Byleth ran over (or whatever one calls drunk fast walking) to get the couch off the two lest Lorenz and Ferdinand actually (try to) call an ambulance.

Lifting the hefty piece of furniture revealed not Sylvain's death, but Ingrid hotly making out with him, both getting inappropriately grabby. Berith just dropped her side of the sofa, Claude playing a loud disc scratch for the hell of it, everyone staring at the two.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON IN HERE?!" A loud, awfully familiar shout woke everyone up and broke everyone's drug induced daze. "Oh, shit," Byleth said, staring at the unimpressed face of his father, hoisting a still unconscious Seteth over his shoulder.

"Uh...Hey dad...?" he meekly greeted, dropping the couch as he waved weakly at him. They were all SO dead. He gave his son an expectant glare, eyebrow raised.

"So? What the fuck happened here? And where's Flayn? We woke up in the back of the truck, my car gone, and this ol' lug not moving," Jeralt very plainly stated, tone hiding his "you guys are gonna wish you were dead when I'm done with you," mood.

Flayn, with vomit-covered towels in her hands, came downstairs, freezing in panic at the sight of her father and uncle by the doorway.

"Oh, hello Uncle Jeralt! I see you brought dad home," she managed to squeak out. Said uncle gave her an equally dead gaze, scaring his niece. He turned his glare around the house, stopping to gaze at the still unconscious Felix laying on the ground in a small puddle of his drool, snoring.

"ALRIGHT, LISTEN UP YOU SHITS!" Jeralt commanded, everyone who hadn't yet passed out turning toward him. "Everyone here who can move gets up right now and starts cleaning! I don't care if you're drunk, or high, I've cleaned out a garage cross-faded, so get to work!" He then pointed down at Felix. "And can someone get this sad sight off the damn ground!?"

Not needing to be threatened, Claude yanked off his headphones and started packing up his DJ gear. Cyril did his housemate a favor by packing up his bartending bag in the kitchen before slipping away from the noise. Leonie, despite stumbling around, hoisted up one of the amps, moving them toward the door. Ingrid and Sylvain, while still flushed and slow to move, pushed the couch back up correctly, Dedue laying Felix onto it. Dimitri got to work, sort of, clearing the chairs at the dining table, doing his best to not accidentally break any chair legs or walk into the wall. Ferdinand and Dorothea held Edelgard steady as she called for Hubert to come get them, and Hilda, while making a big, whiny show of it, helped Lorenz and Marianne pack up the karaoke equipment. Flayn tossed the puke-ruined towels into the kitchen sink, checking on the first floor bathroom.

"I...Don't think I made it..." Caspar grumbled, practically crawling out of the bathroom. Flayn turned to her cousins, brows furrowed.

"You're taking care of this one." Berith sighed, walking in, finding an unholy mess of barely-digested food, a rainbow of alcohol, and the putrid odor of stomach acid in the bathtub.

"At least it wasn't on the floor," she muttered, turning on the tap to begin the arduous process of cleaning and bleaching the tub.

A storming came down the staircase, a confused and giggly Raphael stumbled down, looking at the bustling group. "Whad'appened? I ran upstairs, crawled somewhere, and blacked out. Oh, hey Mr. Eisner! Whaddup?" Jeralt brought his hand to his face, groaning in frustration.

_**HONK HOOONNNK**_

"Oh, that's our ride!" Dorothea sang, making way to leave with Ferdinand, Edelgard, and Caspar in tow. Jeralt, using the still unconscious Seteth as a blockade, didn't let them through.

"Not so fast kids," he stated, walking out himself to explain the situation. "HEY, RATFACE!"

Everyone stopped moving for a moment to try to make out the shouting outside. Hubert was raising his voice, a rarity, and Jeralt seemed to be laughing at his frustration. After a few minutes of strained listening by the door, the partiers scattered at the sound of pounding footsteps returning back towards them.

"Well, you can give us a hand if you want, or you can go complain to your friends," Jeralt said, giving the grumpy goth a hard pat (thwack) on the back. Hubert, in a pair of black silky pajama pants, an equally black, ornately embroidered bathrobe, and a pair of fuzzy black crow slippers, glowered tiredly at his "friends."

"It's 2:30 in the morning. I just got Linhardt and Bernadetta to go to bed. I waited up for you to call, and this is what I ran five red lights and six stop signs for," he growled out. Alas, he was very obviously ignored by his group, and with a huff, sat down on an unsullied cushion on the loveseat. "I'd put money down that Caspar stained this lovely chair," he muttered to no one in particular, face set in frown.

"Hubert, why're you just...Sitting there? It's rude to... Come as a visitor and...Contribute nothing!" Ferdinand slurred, sluggish as he reached for some cups lying down on the floor (with some difficulty), almost landing face first onto Hubert's slippers. He got kicked in the face as a response.

"I'm not here as a guest, I came here to pick you idiots up, and instead, I'm waiting for you to clean up after your own messes like toddlers. I could've been sleeping, leaving you here to lay in your own vomit-covered bed," Hubert continued to complain, absolutely pouting. Dorothea practically pranced up to him, poking his sunken, pale cheeks.

"Is Hubie-Dooby-Doo upset?" she cooed, grinning as he tried to give her one of his menacing glares. A shame that they never worked on her, and his sleepy visage removed any edge he attempted to convey. He slapped her hand away, refusing to give her a response.

"He's always a frowny clown," Edelgard slurred, standing next to Dorothea. Hubert's scowl deepened, ears tinged red in embarrassment at the girls' teasing.

"HEY! Leave the sad rat alone and clean the gunk off the cushion!" Jeralt barked at the girls. Hubert let out a small sigh of relief as their attention turned to the soiled cushion next to him.

"Shit, shit, shitshitshitshitshit...Hey, has anyone seen Cyril?!" Claude squawked, just noticing the youngest party guest, and his responsibility, was not among them.

"Did you check upstairs?" Lorenz asked.

"No one came up or down as far as we saw," Hilda said, rolling her eyes as if it were obvious. To be fair, it would have been hard to miss as the staircase was so close to the front door.

"He's an adult too, I'm sure he's fine," Jeritza sighed, patting Claude's shoulder in a strange attempt to be reassuring.

"Now now, if I lost you, I'd be just as frazzled," Mercedes said, looking at her little brother with unfocused, but concerned, eyes.

"I'm an adult too," he mumbled, face and ears red from embarrassment.

It was then that perhaps the most obnoxious, annoying sound in the world blasted through the house. Everyone present and capable of hearing turned toward the source of the noise, glaring at, to no one's surprise, Claude.

"Eheh, what? It's my ringtone," he said, taking out his cell to answer. Maybe it was Cyril.

"ALADDIN DUBAN AL-MALIKI!" Claude pulled his phone away from his ear at the deep, loud voice.

"Baba?!" he squeaked out, very, very nervous. He started babbling in a foreign language, his tone and twitching all-telling of his fear.

"Claude's name's Aladdin?" Dimitri suddenly said, momentarily snapped out of his marijuana-induced daze. With a huff, Dedue began to gently push the man toward the door, hopefully into Sylvain's car to actually rest.

"CYRIL?!" Claude squawked, his anxiety turning to disbelief. He patted down his pants, and his face shifted to panic. He ran straight past Dedue and Dimitri, nearly knocking them over with how fast he was going, almost tore open Seteth's front door, and sprinted out. The sound of a car door slamming echoed through the quiet neighborhood, quickly replaced by more foreign screaming and shouting. After a few minutes of obvious bickering, Claude returned, in an angry huff, his phone being shoved roughly back into his pocket.

"Alright guys, we gotta grab the equipment and put it back in my trunk now, or Cyril's gonna jack my car and leave us here 'til morning," he groaned, running a frustrated hand through his messy hair. The rest of his cohorts groaned as well, not exactly pleased to be rushed while still a tad (a lot) inebriated. Ignatz, the other designated driver, started leading a stumbling Raphael toward the door too, most likely for the better.

It had taken a good hour and a half, but with Jeralt watching like a hawk, Flayn and Seteth's manor was spotless once again. Outside of the house, everyone was saying their tired goodbyes and many thanks. Jeritza sat in his car, waiting for his sister and Annette to finish placing her many pastry platters in his trunk.

Claude and Cyril were bickering in front of the old, yellow station wagon as Leonie, Lorenz, Hilda, and Marianne fit their party equipment into the cargo. Ignatz was buckling a sleeping Raphael into his passenger seat, waiting for Leonie to head back to their dorms.

Hubert was simultaneously the least and most relieved. He was comfortable in his driver's seat, but he was thrumming the steering wheel with impatience as Edelgard and Dimitri traded sappy, drugged words of affection and sleepy goodbyes through Sylvain's passenger seat. Ferdinand and Dorothea had been giggling and whispering drunk nothings behind him, Caspar snoring quite loudly as his head leaned into the back of Hubert's chair. He was looking forward to throwing them all into their rooms before bed.

Dedue, ever patient and kind, waited behind the wheel, checking on the last three sleeping soundly in the back, Sylvain leaning into Ingrid, her head tilted back toward the headrest, and Felix, snoring against the window. As Dimitri nodded off to sleep, Edelgard trudged to Hubert's car, yawning quite loudly.

"It's nice meeting you guys," she said quietly, weakly waving to the Eisners as Hubert hit the gas and sped off.

"HEY GUYS! SEE YOU AT THE NEXT SHINDIG!" Claude hollered, his car sputtering as it sped past, Ignatz's car following after. Dedue also drove off, politely waved as he carefully and quietly drove off into the night.

"Alright punks, now that the peanut gallery's gone, you've got a lot to answer for." The three groaned, Jeralt glaring them into silence. It was going to be a long, long week...


	8. I See The (Yellow) Light

I See The (Yellow) Light

Monday morning came faster than they'd hoped. Byleth and Berith had been sentenced to household chore duty all weekend, and Cethleann had been forced to scrub her whole house. To say they were exhausted that morning would be an understatement.

"Look at you two, you're a sight for sore eyes," Jeralt teased, a hot mug of coffee in one hand, car keys in the other. Byleth yawned, bags under his eyes and a slight limp as he walked, still very sore from running back and forth between the yard and garage, moving boxes in and out. Berith's arms were in similar condition, having been assigned to her father's cleaning duty from hell.

"Let's just get going," Byleth grumbled, heading toward the door. Berith followed sluggishly, groaning. Jeralt just laughed at them as he exited their house and locked the door behind him.

The parking lot was barren. And so was the campus. Outside of a few very early morning labs and discussions, the university was mostly quiet. When Jeralt, Byleth, and Berith entered their designated classroom, they were surprised to see a few students already seated.

"Good...Morning?" Jeralt greeted, a tad unsure. "This is the early morning driving class. You guys in the right room?" All present nodded their heads, to his pleasant surprise. Putting his laptop down on the front desk, he opened the attendance list for his first morning class, and began reading down the names.

"Uhh...Aegir, Ferdi-"

"PRESENT AND ACCOUNTED FOR!" Ah, yes, he was the proud and noisy peacock who more or less shouted his name and lineage in his intro. He had introduced himself over ten times at that party, if he remembered right.

"Bergliez, Caspar?"

"RIGHT'ERE!" The one who threw up in the bathtub, eh?

"Okaaaay….Blaiddyd, Dimitri?"

"Here, sir…" He looked down, ears red from shame or embarrassment. Seems he remembered his behavior at the party! GOOD.

"Cordelia, Lysithea?"

"Here!" Jeralt raised a brow at the tiny white-haired girl. Is...She really a college student?

"Uhhh...You know you have to be a university stu-"

"I AM! I'M NOT A CHILD, DAMMIT!" The classroom fell silent with her outburst, Byleth and Berith shaken out of their impromptu nap. The glare she gave Jeralt was withering and wrathful, but at the same time absolutely adorable. With an amused smirk and good humor, the roll-call continued. He'd be keeping this little brat in mind.

"Dominic, Annette?"

"Here!" a girl with bright orange hair chirped from the front, smiling despite the obvious dark circles under her eyes. He recognized her as one of the singing girls from the party. He'd have to keep an eye on her.

"Edmund, Marianne?" A quiet girl in the back raised her hand slowly, Jeralt nodding as she dropped her hand back down onto her desk. A girl next to her patted her back, seemingly in some kind of congratulations or comfort.

"Gloucester, Lorenz?"

"On time and present, sir!" Ah, yes. The kid with the ugliest hairdo in the history of mankind. Also a terrible singer with no coordination when drunk. Another one he'd need to keep an eye on.

"Uh-huh. Well, I'm going to assume now that your haircut decisions are made while inebriated." Lorenz sputtered in an attempt to respond, the classroom soon filled with laughter at his expense. Again.

"Goneril, Hilda," he stated, giving the pink-haired girl the stink-eye. Oh, he didn't trust her in the slightest. Something about her and that Claude kid with the DJ equipment reminded him too much of his daughter on her bad days. Damn, Jeralt was going to need to glue eyes to the back of his head with these kids. She gave him a cute wink and a wave, as if attempting to be disarming. Nope. Not on his watch.

"Hevring, Linhardt?" A beat. There was no response. "Hevring, Linhardt," Jeralt repeated, with more volume and force this time. Another beat. Only crickets chirped in the classroom. "Is there a Linhardt Hevring signed up for this course?"

"HERE! Linhardt, wake up!" the Caspar kid practically shouted, pointing to a dark green lump of hair on the desk next to him. The mass of hair didn't budge. Caspar then unceremoniously kicked the desk, bringing the student down onto the linoleum floor with a thud. The class "oooh"-ed in response.

"...Is class starting? Don't wake me up unless it's important, Caspar. I haven't had my medication yet," Linhardt mumbled, tucking his arms under his head….Still on the floor.

"KID, CLASS IS IN SESSION, NOW GET THE HELL UP!" Jeralt practically commanded, clearly not in the mood to deal with this. He was so sure these were college kids, practically adults, yet here he was, shouting at them like they were his own little shits back in their high school years. With exaggerated sighs and groans, Linhardt got up and sat back down on his desk, giving him a tired, bored look. Jeralt was not going to like this kid either.

"Hresvelg, Edelgard?" he continued, sighing under his breath.

"Present and accounted for, sir." Ah, the blonde boy's girlfriend from the party. While up and alert, she seemed to avoid looking him in the eyes at all costs, so it was safe to say she also had a good idea of how much of a wreck she was in his eyes. Also, GOOD.

"Martritz, Mercedes?"

"Oh, right here sir!" Jeralt remembered this sweet girl from the party, but was rather surprised to see her in...Soft Kitty pajamas?

"...Any reason you're still in PJ's, kid?" he asked, thoroughly confused.

"Oh, I slept through my first two alarms, and my brother had to come in to remind me to go to class, but I didn't have time to change, so I got cleaned up and had my brother drop me off like this!" she answered, ever cheery and soft. Morning people.

"...Uh-huh…...Moving on then…" He didn't even know how to respond to that. Again, these were college students, right?

"Varley, Bernadetta?" he asked, moving to the final student on the day's roster.

"Um, uh, H-H-HERE!" Jeralt looked around the room, wondering where the response was coming from, feeling a headache coming on. And fast. Ferdinand, Linhardt, Caspar, and Edelgard pointed toward a corner seat in the back. Lo and behold, a small girl was right under it, waving nervously at him. Great, another special case.

"...Would you kindly please sit down in the chair? I like to see my students while I'm teaching, and it's not really helpful for you to be under there," he said, trying to sound as calm and nonchalant as he could with the frustration bubbling in his gut.

"Umm, okay, just...Give me a moment to get...Comfortable, please...And, don't let Hubert know, please, he'll be so disappointed and he might actually kill me in my sleep, and I-I, I'd rather not d-d-die, please?" she stuttered out, peeking her head out like a scared rabbit. Was that rat-faced goth threatening other students? What the fuck was going on in this school?

"What time did you schedule your medication, Bernadetta?" Edelgard asked.

"U-Umm...A-around 8:30, b-before my lecture class," she answered, finally seeming comfortable enough to crawl into her actual chair. Edelgard nodded, clearly texting the rat something on her phone.

"HEY, no phone use in my class. Save it for later." With a huff, she dropped her phone back into her backpack. From the corner of his eye, he could see the Goneril girl seemingly mocking him with her phone in her lap. Oh, she was getting SOMETHING later.

Snapping Berith and Byleth out of their impromptu naps behind his desk, Jeralt had them handing out basic papers to the class. "Welcome to, essentially, Driving 101. And I might be an ex-racecar driver, but I'm here to teach you how to survive the road, not swim in speeding tickets, got it? So no questions about racing in here. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?" While most of the students gave nods and grumbles in understanding, some of them, well…

"So can we ask about it after? I wanna learn how to drift!" Everyone looked at Caspar with either pity or disbelief.

"No."

"AWWWW! BUT-"

"NO." Ferdinand and Edelgard gave Caspar the stink eye and he finally acquiesced and quieted down.

"Okay, no more stupid questions? Good. I'm sure you've all taken looks at a driving handbook before, and watched your parents, siblings, chauffeurs, whoever the fuck drives you around, actually drive. I hope. So, this is a basics quiz to see how much you already know about getting around in a vehicle. Keep in mind, no grades in this course, you pass when you are legally allowed to drive, understood? My kids'll be watching for any funny business, got it?" With a nod of his head, the students began scribbling onto their quiz papers. For a moment, all was silent and peaceful.

"Hey! Gimme back my phone, Byleth! I thought we were cool!" Mostly.

After a surprising thirty whole minutes, all twelve quizzes were neatly stacked on Jeralt's desk. With his red pen out, he tried his best to keep up a "teacher" look, but some of the answers he read were….

"I shouldn't be, but I'm surprised at how many of you seem to know almost NOTHING about driving," the frustrated instructor groaned, hand sliding down his face.

"My brother drives me everywhere."

"I have friends who drive."

"My dad didn't let me sit in the passenger seat until I graduated high school."

And the excuses kept coming. With a huff, Jeralt slammed a book down (a magazine, but it worked), silencing the rowdy bunch. "We've got a lot of material to cover, and a lot of work to do. Let's start with the basics," he began, drawing basic road signs and diagrams on the whiteboard. "I hope you're at least familiar with these, or else a few of you wouldn't be here right now. So let's begin with identification." A flurry of hands shot up, and answers being shouted left and right echoed in the classroom, but so far, Jeralt was almost impressed with how much they seemed to already know.

"Dad, I have a lecture in 30 minutes, I'll see you later," Byleth interrupted, slapping his father's shoulder before running out of the room. It was kind of cute when the students gave him a loud "bye" as the door closed.

"Can we leave early too?" Kind of.

"Alright, I'm sure you've all seen this and know how this one works. Most traffic lights use green, yellow, and red to indicate whether to stop or go at a crossing. Now, who can tell me what the yellow light specifically means?" Jeralt was surprised when Caspar's hand shot up first, a confident shit-eating grin on his face. "...Alright, Bergliez."

"It's permission to speed, sir!" He seemed genuinely proud of his terribly wrong answer.

"What? NO!" Jeralt's palm met his face yet again.

"It means caution, you idiot!" the tiny one, Lysithea, scolded.

"But is Caspar technically wrong? Depending on how far from the main road one is when the light turns yellow, it could be a signal to hurry up or stop," Linhardt responded from his desk, popping a pill into his mouth and downing a bottle of soda.

"Yes, he's very wrong-" Jeralt tried again to interject.

"If you floor it, I think you can make it no matter how far from the light you are," Hilda added. "At least, that's how my brother likes to drive."

"Holtz is a barbaric buffoon on the road, and you know this, Hilda," Lorenz muttered, earning him a one-finger salute from said girl.

"One must maintain a steady speed on the road before the light turns red, so a yellow light should generally be a warning to slow down," Ferdinand also threw out, nodding to Lorenz.

"Oh, but the drivers behind you wouldn't like that if you have plenty of space in front of you," Mercedes piped up, stirring a pot that had already boiled over. The class had clearly devolved very quickly.

"TA-DA!" Everyone's head snapped toward the whiteboard, where Berith had added her own doodle of the students' conundrum (and her father's inevitable headache). It was just a line dividing the street, but it made Jeralt so damn proud in that moment.

"Okay dad, I'm going to class!" And she also left.

"...So, even if we're below the line, would flooring it help?" Saints above, why did he take this job?


End file.
